


Never Gonna Survive, Unless, We Get a Little Crazy (Part Twelve of "Peeping Through the Closet Door")

by OpenPage



Series: Peeping Through the Closet Door [12]
Category: 21 Jump Street (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-12 21:21:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15348999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OpenPage/pseuds/OpenPage
Summary: Booker makes a discovery that changes everything… again.





	1. Love Actually

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ute](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ute/gifts).



> [ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/156893755@N07/42579095145/in/album-72157683689305643/)
> 
> **Disclaimer: I do not own 21 Jump Street or any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. All characters and events in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.**
> 
> **No copyright infringement is intended.**
> 
> **Based on the TV series 21 Jump Street.**

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/156893755@N07/42579099755/in/album-72157683689305643/)

The drive back to Los Angeles took just over an hour, but for the two officers in the car, it seemed like a lifetime. Neither man spoke, not because they had nothing to say, but because they didn’t know how to say it. They’d reached a stalemate, and until one of them decided to reopen the dialogue, they were stuck in a holding pattern. Their battered egos and bruised flesh needed time to heal, and so they kept their thoughts to themselves, while silently wishing the other man would find the words to break the suffocating silence.

As they approached the city limits, the traffic became more congested, and Booker wound up his window. Staring straight ahead, he tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, his impatience steadily mounting. He craved solitude, but he needed to drop Tom off before he could escape to the privacy of his tiny apartment. And while he longed to drown his sorrows, he was sensible enough to know he needed to keep a level head. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t have a drink to help take the edge off what had been one of the worst weekends of his life. Then, when he’d calmed his mind, he would deal with the issue of his appearance. He needed to think of a plausible excuse for his two black eyes before he fronted up at work the following morning, and although telling the truth and blaming Tom was a tempting proposition, he knew he couldn’t do it. Because to hurt Tom to that extent was no different from taking a knife and stabbing it through his own heart. The young officer was an extension of himself. He was his life’s blood, his one and only, twin flame, and he was certain he would never find someone who shared the same core soul frequency as him, even if he lived to the ripe old age of one hundred. But that didn’t mean he could just forgive and forget. He couldn’t. He wasn’t wired that way. And therein lay the problem.

“You missed the turnoff.”

Tom’s voice jarred Booker from his reverie. “Huh?”

Not wanting to start another argument, Tom kept his tone non-confrontational. “I said, you missed the turnoff.”

“Oh,” Booker muttered. “Sorry.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

Silence followed their brief exchange, the chill in the air having little to do with the ambient temperature. Feeling a need to fill the empty void, Tom spoke again. “If you take the next left—”

“I know where I’m going.”

There was a subtle warning in the pitch of Booker’s voice that said, _“Keep quiet, and we won’t have a problem.”_ Usually, Tom would have felt the need to challenge such an authoritative tone from someone other than his superior. But he was intuitive enough to know when to keep his mouth shut. Booker was tired, and more than likely, in pain, and the sooner they said their goodbyes, the sooner they could regroup and look at repairing their tattered relationship.

Pulling the Cadillac up to the curb, Booker switched off the engine and removing the key, he climbed out of the vehicle. Moments later, the trunk popped open, followed by the heavy thud of a rucksack hitting the pavement. There was a finality to the sound, and a shiver of regret ran down the length of Tom’s spine. Maybe he’d underestimated the extent of their problems, which probably meant their relationship really _had_ reached the point of no return. It was a sobering thought, and one the young officer didn’t want to consider. And so, he did his best to block it from his mind. Time was the great healer, and he hoped after a good night’s sleep, Booker would view their relationship in a more positive light.

Without warning, the passenger door opened. Taking the hint, Tom climbed out of the vehicle and picked up his bag. When the door slammed closed, he turned and faced his lover. “Do you want to come in?”

Booker exhaled a weighty sigh. “I don’t think so.”

“Oh, okay,” Tom murmured. “Well, I guess I’ll—”

“See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, see you tomorrow.”

With nothing left to say, Dennis walked around the back of the Caddy and closed the trunk with a bang. But before he could reach the driver’s side door, a panicked voice cut through the silence. “Booker!”

Dennis’ body visibly tensed and turning around, he stared at his lover. “What?”

“We’re okay, right?”

The muscles in Booker’s jaw tightened. “I dunno, Tom. Are we?”

“Probably not,” Tom sighed, his shoulders slumping forward. “But can we at least _try_ and make it right?”

“Maybe,” Booker murmured, and climbing into the car, he slammed the door closed and drove away.

**

Throwing his rucksack on the bed, Booker tossed up whether to unpack his belongings or have a drink. In the end, it was his need to cleanse himself of the past thirty-six hours that had him unbuckling the bag and emptying the contents on top of the rumpled duvet. Immediately, an unfamiliar item caught his eye, and it took him a moment to realize he’d somehow managed to pack Tom’s brown suede jacket. Picking it up, he raised the soft fabric to his face and breathed in the musky aroma of his lover’s aftershave. As the familiar scent awakened his senses, his muscles contracted, and a coil of arousal snaked through his groin. Visions of Tom’s fit, lithe body flooded his mind and closing his eyes, he reveled in the memory. But within seconds, the image distorted into an angry face, complete with snarling lips and cold, hard eyes, and the illusion immediately shattered the spell enchanting the dark-haired officer’s heart. His mind crashed back to the present and opening his eyes, he stared at the jacket in his hands. What happened at the condo was more than just a petty argument. Tom had punched him… not once, but twice, and while he wasn’t proud of his actions—calling Tom _Mister Fucking Perfect_ and a repressed momma’s boy was a low blow—that level of explosive anger worried him. Their fight had escalated from name-calling to fisticuffs in a matter of seconds, and it wasn’t only Tom who had lashed out, he had too, making him just as culpable. Never in all the years he’d dated had he ever physically assaulted a partner, and while the dark-haired officer recognized alcohol had played a significant part, it was a new experience and not one he wanted to repeat. The whole scenario had planted a seed of doubt in his mind, the tiny, unsubstantiated concept slowly taking form until it had sprouted into full-blown paranoia. And so, he’d found himself asking the same question over and over again during the drive home. Did Tom love him or was he just holding on to his affection like a drowning man? Or maybe it was as simple as Tom just being in love with the _idea_ of being in love. The speculations were endless, and the problem was, the more Booker thought about it, the more he started to question Tom’s motives. His confidence had dipped to an all-time low, whereas his insecurities were soaring at an all-time high. Especially after his last case. He was walking a thin line, his mind teetering between mild melancholia and full-blown depression. And like his fight with Tom, it was a new experience, and one he hoped he could rectify before it completely changed his personality… and not for the better.

Fed up with thoughts of Tom pulling him down, Booker tossed the jacket toward a nearby chair. But his aim was off, and it slipped to the floor, revealing something in the pocket. Curious, he picked up the jacket and pulled out a white drugstore bag. Without any thought for his friend’s privacy, he opened the packaging… and his heart dipped. Suddenly, everything made sense, and a cold sweat prickled his skin. He’d made a mistake, a _big_ mistake, and at that moment, he wished he could take everything back… the angry words, the drinking, and especially the fight. Because if he’d known, he never would have behaved like such an ass… if he’d known, he never would have hurt his lover.

Shoving the bag in his pocket, Booker exited the bedroom. He may have made a mistake, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t man enough to make things right. All he had to do was apologize and the past thirty-six hours would become nothing more than a bad dream. Or so he hoped. But if not, he wouldn’t give up because he now knew Tom _did_ love him, and there was no way in hell he was going to lose the most important person in his life.

Not one to let the grass grow under his feet, the dark-haired officer headed toward the door. He wasn’t going to wait to right past wrongs and snatching his keys up out of the bowl, he hurried out of his apartment.

**

Kicking off his boots, Tom flopped down on the couch and picked up the remote control. He needed a distraction, and with a click of a button, he turned on the television and flipped through the channels. A mere seventy-two hours before, he’d sat on the same couch, his mind lost in the warm tones of a multi-colored fantasy he’d hoped would become a reality. But it was all for nothing. After the key fiasco, all his plans had turned to shit, and instead of fulfilling a dream, he was left wondering if his and Booker’s relationship were over. He’d thought he was giving his lover the surprise of a lifetime, what he hadn’t bargained on was his reaction. Not that he entirely blamed the dark-haired officer. It was a miscommunication, and if he had his time over, instead of trying to surprise his lover with his life-changing decision, he would have sat him down and spoken openly about his feelings. But he hadn’t because, at the time, he was so caught up in the artistry of Booker’s seduction, he had thought he too, could woo his partner. It was a valuable lesson in _what_ not to do, and if he weren’t so damn depressed, he would have seen the funny side. And maybe he would… one day. But not _this_ day. Because after only thirty-six hours, he was still hurting and everyone needed to indulge in a little self-pity now and then, even self-assured police officers.

A loud knock startled Tom out of his reflective stupor and clambering to his feet, he padded across the room in his socked feet. Without bothering to check the peephole, he opened the door, his eyes widening in surprise when he saw his visitor. “Dennis.”

Booker held out Tom’s suede jacket. “You left this in the car.”

“Ooo-kay,” Tom replied slowly, and taking the jacket from his lover’s hands, he stepped back from the door. “Uh, do you wanna come in?”

Still unsure how to approach the young officer with what he knew, Booker passed a nervous hand over his mouth. But in the end, the soft, inviting depths of Tom’s dark eyes alleviated his anxiety, and a small smile tweaked his lips. “Yeah, okay. Thanks.”

Motioning Booker inside, Tom closed the door. He was surprised to find his lover on his doorstep a mere thirty minutes after he’d dropped him off, but he wasn’t disappointed. He’d known Booker would eventually come to his senses, he just hadn’t expected it so soon. But he wasn’t complaining. The sooner they put their differences aside, the sooner they could get their relationship back on track, and that was all he cared about. Having made one of the most important decisions of his life, he couldn’t imagine not seeing it through. However, he also understood the need to tread warily. Trust was paramount in any relationship, and he and Booker needed to work on their communication skills _before_ falling back into old habits. Otherwise, they would find themselves right back where they started, and Tom wasn’t sure he could endure the heartache a third time around. And so, rather than attempt a hug, he played it cool. “Take a seat. Can I get you a beer?”

Booker perched on the edge of the couch. “No, thanks.”

A noticeable stillness followed, even the house sparrows nesting in a nearby tree seemed to hold their breath, their soft chirpy voices falling silent along with their human comrades. For the second time in less than an hour, Tom felt the need to fill the cavernous void, and so, he came straight to the point. “Thanks for returning my jacket. But I’ve gotta say, I’m a little surprised you didn’t wait until—”

“We need to talk.”

It was the third time in recent history the _‘we need to talk’_ declaration had found its way into their relationship, and the hairs on the back of Tom’s neck stood to attention. Booker had said it to him in the park the day after his birthday, and _he’d_ said it to Booker the day after his car accident. Both times, they’d survived the implied portent of doom, but Tom wondered if the term _third time’s the charm_ sometimes had a contradictory meaning, and rather than lucky, it would, in their case, prove _cataclysmic._ It was a worrying thought, and passing a nervous hand over his mouth, he remained standing in the middle of the room. “About?”

Without hesitation, Booker reached into his pocket and pulled out the pharmacy bag. “This.”

White spots danced before Tom’s eyes. Booker had found his package, and with it, the contents hidden within. The moment had arrived, and although he wished he’d had a chance to reveal his intentions at the condo, he was ready. On shaky legs, he crossed the room, and taking a seat next to his lover, he plucked the bag from his hand. Time stood still, the nervous tension hanging between them rippling the air. But rather than allow his fear to consume him, Tom fed on its energy and opening his mouth, he uttered the three words that had the potential to change their lives forever. “Okay. Let’s talk.”


	2. With Arms Wide Open

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Previously: A loud knock startled Tom out of his reflective stupor and clambering to his feet, he padded across the room in his socked feet. Without bothering to check the peephole, he opened the door, his eyes widening in surprise when he saw his visitor. “Dennis.”_
> 
> _Booker held out Tom’s suede jacket. “You left this in the car.”_
> 
> _“Ooo-kay,” Tom replied slowly, and taking the jacket from his lover’s hands, he stepped back from the door. “Uh, do you wanna come in?”_
> 
> _Still unsure how to approach the young officer with what he knew, Booker passed a nervous hand over his mouth. But in the end, the soft, inviting depths of Tom’s dark eyes alleviated his anxiety, and a small smile tweaked his lips. “Yeah, okay. Thanks.”_
> 
> _Motioning Booker inside, Tom closed the door. He was surprised to find his lover on his doorstep a mere thirty minutes after he’d dropped him off, but he wasn’t disappointed. He’d known Booker would eventually come to his senses, he just hadn’t expected it so soon. But he wasn’t complaining. The sooner they put their differences aside, the sooner they could get their relationship back on track, and that was all he cared about. Having made one of the most important decisions of his life, he couldn’t imagine not seeing it through. However, he also understood the need to tread warily. Trust was paramount in any relationship, and he and Booker needed to work on their communication skills _before_ falling back into old habits. Otherwise, they would find themselves right back where they started, and Tom wasn’t sure he could endure the heartache a third time around. And so, rather than attempt a hug, he played it cool. “Take a seat. Can I get you a beer?”_
> 
> _Booker perched on the edge of the couch. “No, thanks.”_
> 
> _A noticeable stillness followed, even the house sparrows nesting in a nearby tree seemed to hold their breath, their soft chirpy voices falling silent along with their human comrades. For the second time in less than an hour, Tom felt the need to fill the cavernous void, and so, he came straight to the point. “Thanks for returning my jacket. But I’ve gotta say, I’m a little surprised you didn’t wait until—”_
> 
> _“We need to talk.”_
> 
> _It was the third time in recent history the _‘we need to talk’_ declaration had found its way into their relationship, and the hairs on the back of Tom’s neck stood to attention. Booker had said it to him in the park the day after his birthday, and _he’d_ said it to Booker the day after his car accident. Both times, they’d survived the implied portent of doom, but Tom wondered if the term _third time’s the charm_ sometimes had a contradictory meaning, and rather than lucky, it would, in their case, prove _cataclysmic._ It was a worrying thought, and passing a nervous hand over his mouth, he remained standing in the middle of the room. “About?”_
> 
> _Without hesitation, Booker reached into his pocket and pulled out the pharmacy bag. “This.”_
> 
> _White spots danced before Tom’s eyes. Booker had found his package, and with it, the contents hidden within. The moment had arrived, and although he wished he’d had a chance to reveal his intentions at the condo, he was ready. On shaky legs, he crossed the room, and taking a seat next to his lover, he plucked the bag from his hand. Time stood still, the nervous tension hanging between them rippling the air. But rather than allow his fear to consume him, Tom fed on its energy and opening his mouth, he uttered the three words that had the potential to change their lives forever. “Okay. Let’s talk.”_

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/156893755@N07/29983912138/in/dateposted-public/)

An awkward silence followed Tom’s statement. Each man held their breath, their faces strained, both silently willing the other to speak. But just as Tom started to think they would remain trapped behind an iron curtain of selective muteness, Booker opened the dialogue. “Tom, if I’d known, I—”

“So, you looked in the bag?”

Embarrassed by his betrayal, Booker lowered his gaze. “Yeah. I know I shouldn’t have, but—”

“Then you know what I had planned.”

Tears gathered at the corners of the dark-haired officer’s eyes, and lifting his head, he confessed his sin in a soft, husky voice. “Yes.”

With an unsteady hand, Tom reached inside the bag and pulled out a packet of condoms and a tube of lubrication. Laying them on the seat between them, he gazed deep into his lover’s eyes. _“This_ was my real gift to you. Not the key… _this._ I wanted to show you how much I love you by giving you the one thing you thought you didn’t really have… _me.”_

Booker shifted uncomfortably under the heat of Tom’s gaze. By misreading the situation and acting like a brat, he’d ruined what should have been the most significant and life-changing moment of their relationship. He’d lived for the day when he could take Tom in his arms and make slow, passionate love to him, to show him, through touch alone, just how much he worshipped not only his body but his mind and spirit. And when the young officer had finally trusted him enough to offer him that gift, he’d been too arrogant and too stupid to read between the lines. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but Booker was determined to make things right, even if he had to go down on bended knee and beg for his lover’s forgiveness. They’d come too far in their relationship for him to give up over a misunderstanding, and taking a deep breath, he spoke from the heart. “I screwed up. I _know_ I screwed up. But you’ve got to believe me, Tommy, I _never_ meant to hurt you. And if I could take it back, I would. But I can’t, so, all I can say is I’m sorry and—”

“I don’t want your apology.”

The softly spoken statement pulled Booker up with a start and a look of panic passed over his face. “Tommy, please! Don’t give up on us now! I’m sorry I ruined your surprise, but I’ll do anything to—

“Whoa!” Tom interrupted, his raised hand halting his lover mid-sentence. “You misunderstood me. What I meant to say is, I don’t want your apology, I just want _you.”_

Booker’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You do?”

Amused, Tom’s dark eyes sparkled with affection. “Of course I do,” he murmured, and leaning forward, he pressed his lips against the bruised flesh of his lover’s cheek. “I _love_ you, Dennis, and I should have said that a long time ago.”

“Oh, baby,” Booker breathed, and placing a hand behind Tom's head, his mouth found the young officer’s warm, inviting lips. Their kiss was slow and tender, their restraint proof of their commitment to each other. It wasn’t about sex, it was all about love, and forgiveness, and owning their mistakes, and both men knew, whatever happened in the future, they would always find a way to make their relationship work.

Tom lovingly sucked Booker’s lower lip before reluctantly breaking the kiss. His lover raised a questioning eyebrow, and exhaling a sigh, the young officer spoke his mind. “I don’t ever want this to happen again, so I think it would be best if we—”

“Don’t rush into anything?”

It was Tom’s turn to look surprised. “You agree?”

Gently cupping his lover’s cheek in his hand, Booker smiled. “Yeah, I do. I want it to be special, just like you planned.”

Relief shone from Tom’s eyes. “Thanks. That means a lot. You’ve been so patient and—”

“Shh,” Booker whispered, his thumb lightly stroking the young officer’s cheek. “It’s all good. _We’re_ all good. Okay?”

“Okay.” 

_“Sooo,”_ Booker crooned in a low, teasing voice. “Can I stay the night?”

A wolfish grin lit up Tom’s face. “I thought we agreed to take it slow.”

Gazing deep into Tom’s dark eyes, Booker trailed a teasing thumb over his soft lips. “Well, yeah. But that doesn’t mean I can’t hold you in my arms while we sleep, does it?”

If Tom had any lingering doubts about their relationship, they vanished beneath his lover’s heated touch. “No,” he agreed, his smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. “I guess not.”

“Then it’s settled,” the dark-haired officer laughed. “Now, how ‘bout we put our heads together and come up with a plausible story to explain my battered, but still devilishly-handsome looks.”

Grateful for the change in conversation, Tom half listened as Booker invented reasons for his black eyes, each explanation slightly more absurd than the next. But if nothing else, it was a distraction for the young officer because as much as he wanted to do things right, he had a feeling taking things slow with his lover would prove more difficult than he’d first thought. A lot had changed since Booker had wooed him. His mind was clearer, and he was more than ready to go _all the way._ And while he wasn’t sure how long he’d last in the dark-haired officer’s presence before he buckled and gave in to his desires, he knew when he did, it would be the most magical moment of his life.

**

**The following morning**

The electronic _buzz, buzz, buzz,_ of the alarm, woke Booker with a start, the terrifying images haunting his dreams evaporating before he had a chance to fully commit the nightmare to memory. Disoriented for a moment, his fingers fumbled around the bedside bureau until it came into contact with Tom’s clock. Raising his hand, he slammed his palm down on the offending timepiece, shutting off the annoying sound. With a yawn, he stretched out his arms and considered the ramifications of snuggling back under the duvet for another five minutes. But after a brief deliberation, he opened his eyes… only to find his lover propped up on one elbow, staring down at him. Unsettled by the intense scrutiny, a flicker of annoyance passed over his face. “What are you doing?”

“Watching you sleep.”

Shifting uncomfortably, Booker’s lower lip pushed into a fractious pout. “Well, don’t. It's creepy.”

Tom’s brow puckered into a frown. “Are you okay? You were talking in your sleep.”

Booker’s first thought was to lie. But as he gazed up into Tom’s worried eyes, he knew he’d be doing them both a disservice if he didn’t speak honestly and openly about what was troubling him. Rolling onto his side, he mirrored his lover’s position by propping himself up on one elbow and resting his head in his hand. “It’s that damn case I was working on. It’s really screwing with my head.”

The vertical lines between Tom’s eyebrows deepened. “Do you want to talk about it?”

 _“If only it were that easy,”_ Booker thought, but he kept his speculation to himself, preferring to suffer in silence rather than try to explain the role he’d played in humiliating gay men. He was ashamed, and he didn’t want to witness the same level of derision reflected in his lover’s eyes. They’d fought through the hard times and come out the other side with their relationship still intact. It was a testament to their love and commitment, and while he considered their bond unbreakable, he wasn’t about to test his theory by revealing the details of his appalling behavior. He’d almost lost Tom once, he wasn’t going to take a chance on losing him again.

Perplexed by the dark-haired officer’s reluctance to confide in him, Tom tried a different tack. “Maybe if you talked to me about it, you’d feel better. You know, a problem shared is a problem halved. Or so they say.”

Uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was heading, Booker glanced at the clock. “I’m fine. Anyway, we need to get ready for work.”

“We still have a few minutes.”

The softly spoken statement sent a tingle of arousal through Booker’s sleep-warmed body. “What did you have in mind?”

“Oh, I dunno,” Tom murmured, his sensual lips curving into a cheeky smile. “But I’m sure we’ll think of something.”

All thoughts of taking it slow seemed to have slipped Tom’s mind, but it only bothered Booker for a fraction of a second. His early morning erection begged for attention, and he watched with interest as his lover slowly inched his way down the bed. His baby was initiating first contact, and he was curious to see where it might lead. But when a warm mouth enveloped his toes, he wrinkled his nose. Toe sucking was _not_ what he had in mind.

“You don't like that?” Tom purred as he crawled up the bed on his hands and knees. “Hmm. Well, how ‘bout this?” and ducking his head, he traced the contours of Booker’s stomach muscles with his tongue, his light, teasing caresses moving him ever closer to his destination. When his chin grazed the hard mound of his lover’s erection, he smiled against the warm quivering flesh, and shuffling further down the bed, he mouthed over the enticing bulge.

Booker’s eyes widened in surprise, and propping himself up on his forearms, he spoke before his cock could tell him to shut the hell up. “Tom, you don’t have—”

“Shh,” Tom whispered. “It’s okay. I _want_ to.”

When a trembling hand liberated his erection from the confines of his boxers, all thoughts of chivalry vanished from Booker’s mind. Inhaling a sharp hiss, he flopped back against his pillow and waited… his heart pounding, the muscles in his stomach quivering with anticipation. When moist lips lightly pressed against his cockhead, he thought he would blow his load there and then, and the temptation to ram his cock deep inside Tom’s warm, inviting mouth was almost his undoing. But he managed to control his urges just in time and tangling his fingers in his lover’s sleep-mussed hair, he whispered his encouragement in a low, husky pant. “That’s it, baby. Kiss it… kiss it again.”

A tight band of panic constricted Tom’s chest, the whooshing in his ears reminding him of ocean waves crashing into shore during a storm. His dream of finally giving his lover what he desired was fast becoming a 3D, surround sound reality, and he wasn’t sure he was ready. Even though he’d given his lover a handjob, nothing could have prepared him for the moment when his lips touched another man’s cock. Perspiration prickled his skin, the cool morning breeze wafting through the open window chilling his exposed flesh. But there was no turning back. The scent of sex was as discernible to his senses as the warm, spongy flesh beneath his lips, and he knew he needed to keep going or risk being branded a prick tease.

After taking a moment to get his anxiety under control, Tom moistened his lips, and pressing them against Booker’s smooth cockhead, he lightly sucked at the soft flesh. When a gasp sounded from above, he grew bolder, and swirling his tongue over the tip, he tentatively explored the mushroom-shaped head. A burst of pre-cum bubbled over his taste buds, and his nose wrinkled in disgust. But as the mild, saliferous flavor mixed with his saliva, he quickly realized the taste wasn’t _that_ unpleasant and he started to think giving head wasn’t as bad as he’d first feared.

Sensing Tom was having second thoughts, Booker stroked an affectionate hand over the top of his head. “Are you okay, baby? Do you wanna stop?”

There was a noticeable hint of concern reflected in the dark-haired officer’s voice, and at that moment, the love Tom felt for the man lying beneath him intensified tenfold. Just knowing Booker cared enough to stop their amorous play was enough for the young officer to know he’d made the right decision, and as if by magic, all his remaining fear and doubt disappeared. Dennis loved him, _really_ loved him, and it was time for him to prove that love was reciprocated. 

Emboldened with a renewed sense of enthusiasm, Tom lightly grasped Booker’s testicles and gave an experimental tug. A loud moan from above told him he was doing something right, and smiling against the engorged flesh beneath his lips, his fingers worked their magic as he continued his oral exploration. It was an aesthetically tactile experience of touch, and taste, and smell, and as Tom started to relax and enjoy himself, his body awakened. His cock jutted out, his impressive appendage tenting his boxers. And as the need to touch himself intensified, so did his need to taste his lover and without any warning, he took Booker into his mouth and ran his lips up the length of his shaft.

Taken by surprise, Booker’s hips shot forward, the titillating contact sending a bolt of pure pleasure pulsating through his body. _“Ohh,”_ he groaned, his fingers tangling in Tom’s hair. “Oh, _fuuck.”_

The tip of Booker’s cock pressed against the roof of Tom’s mouth, and an explosion of salty fluid burst over his taste buds, but this time he was prepared, and he took a moment to swallow. Reaching down, he released his cock and lightly tugged his swollen shaft, the erotic sensation forcing a loud moan from deep within his throat. The soft vibration pulsed over Booker’s sensitive cockhead, and his toes curled in response. “Yes,” he moaned, his breath exhaling in short, measured pants. “Like that, baby. Just like that.”

Tom’s moist lips continued to glide over Booker’s shaft, his oral massage bringing his lover closer to orgasm with each erogenous caress. It felt strange knowing he had a man’s cock in his mouth, but with each lap and suck, he started to feel more comfortable. And while he couldn’t deny it was a weird sensation, curiously, it also felt right. He loved Dennis, and he wanted to pleasure him with the same level of passion the dark-haired officer had bestowed upon him because more than anything, he wanted to be his equal.

Lost in the euphoria of Tom’s tender ministrations, Booker’s body quivered with the strain of keeping himself under control. But he was fighting a losing battle, and his hips began to thrust gently upward, the motion forcing his cock deeper inside Tom’s mouth. “Baby, I’m close,” he warned in a breathless voice, his hands attempting to push his lover away.

The salty essence coating Tom’s tongue intensified, but he ignored the warning and remembering his lover’s signature move, he pressed his lips tightly against the rigid shaft filling his mouth and began to hum.

The unexpected vibration pulsating against his cockhead caught Booker by surprise and unable to control his impending orgasm, his hips shot forward. _“OooahhhjeeesUUUS!”_

Warm semen hit the back of Tom’s throat, and screwing his eyes closed, the young officer struggled not to retch. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes as he forced himself to swallow the thick, salty fluid flooding his mouth. His stomach lurched, but as his saliva absorbed some of the flavors, a more pleasant aftertaste tingled over his tongue, and with a loud moan, he ejaculated.

With the sound of heavy breathing echoing in his ears, Tom remained frozen in time, his lover’s softening cock still in his mouth. But when a gentle hand reached out and stroked his face, he released Booker’s penis from between his lips, and with one final gulp, he swallowed the remaining semen coating his tongue.

“Are you okay?”

It seemed an odd question to ask, but Tom appreciated the dark-haired officer’s concern and lifting his head, he licked his lips, his mind analyzing the spicy aftertaste of his lover’s semen. The flavor wasn’t exactly to his liking, but it wasn’t as revolting as he’d imagined, and he figured he’d get used to it over time. He might even learn to like it in the same way Booker did. Either way, he wasn’t put off, and he found himself imagining what he’d do differently the next time around.

“Tommy?”

Pulled back to the present with a bang, Tom’s vision cleared and he stared into his lover’s blackened eyes. “Huh?”

Amused, Booker gathered the young officer into his arms and rained soft kisses over his flushed face. “I asked… if you… were oh… kay.”

Exhaling a satisfied sigh, Tom snuggled against Booker’s warm body. “Mmm.”

A comfortable silence followed, each man basking in the warmth radiating from the other. But just as Tom was drifting off to sleep, Booker interrupted the peace and quiet. “I did try to warn you.”

Tom’s eyes fluttered open, and smiling into the crook of the dark-haired officer’s neck, he trailed a lazy finger over his chest. “I heard you.”

Surprised by the admission, Booker’s eyebrows arched upward. “You did? Why didn’t you pull away?”

With a post-climactic calm luring him toward slumber, Tom stifled a yawn. “Because I wanted to do it right.”

Booker’s heart drummed a heavy tattoo inside his chest. “So, what did you think?”

“It was nice.”

The bland adjective didn’t exactly fill Booker with confidence and dislodging his lover from his embrace, he sat up, a deep frown furrowing his brow. “Nice? Is that a polite way of saying you hated it?”

Concerned they were edging toward another fight, Tom went into damage control, and sitting up, he cupped his lover’s face in the palm of his hand. “No. It means, although it was kinda strange, it was also kinda pleasant.”

Unsure how to take the comment, Booker continued to stare at his lover before seeking further clarification. “But you didn’t hate it.”

A cheeky grin lit up Tom’s face. “No, I didn’t hate it. In fact, I’m kinda looking forward to doing it again.”

“Really?” 

The hopeful edge in Booker’s voice brought another smile to Tom’s lips. “Really,” he reassured, and lying back down, he pulled the dark-haired officer into his arms and closed his eyes. “Now shut up so I can relive the moment.”

“And what about taking it slow?” Booker murmured in a sleepy voice.

“Screw taking it slow.”

Booker opened one eye and peered out at Tom. “We’ll be late for work.” 

“Screw work,” Tom muttered, and breathing in the fading scent of sex lingering in the air, he closed his eyes and fell into a dream-filled sleep.


End file.
